


Grump

by yeaka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Sickfic, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22487803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Leo’s sick and whiny.
Relationships: Leo Manfred/Markus
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	Grump

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Detroit: Become Human or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Leo opens his mouth to complain but winds up sneezing all over his lap. The blanket draped across him is already gross, even though Markus washed it only a few hours ago and brought it back to him warm and fluffy. Leo wipes his nose off on his sleeve and feels too _hot_ , but he’s not going to take his sweater off, because then Markus will see his track marks and _judge him._ Or worse, his father will roll down and do it. Leo scrubs the sweat-slicked hair out of his eyes and groans, tossing his head back onto the rim of the couch. He feels _awful._

He probably looks worse. He always feels ugly when he’s at his father’s house, because he’s not as pretty as the sculptures or paintings his father keeps around, and he’s nowhere _near_ as attractive as his father’s bizarrely handsome android. A robot has no right to look so good. It’s not fair. Markus is pure plastic built to please, and Leo’s a flesh and blood wreck of a human being that can’t breathe without sniffling. 

He doubles over in another coughing fit, completely drowning out the climax of the show on television. Not that he was paying attention anyway. He’s mostly got it on, turned up way too loud, out of pure spite. He hopes it wakes his father upstairs. He can’t believe his father’s having a nice, comfy nap at the comfortable age of forever old, and Leo’s just dying on the sofa.

He probably should’ve stayed at his own place. There he could’ve huddled against the toilet without any witnesses. But then he’d have to listen to the landlord pounding on the door wanting the overdue rent he hasn’t got. And he wouldn’t be able to watch Markus’ butt occasionally flitter through the room: the one nice thing in a slew of misery.

Markus isn’t around right now. He fluffed the cushions for Leo, found a show for Leo to watch, brought Leo a blanket, even took his jacket and hat and pet back through his hair because it looked too ‘scruffy’. Maybe Leo liked that—being petted. He also chased Markus away. Markus is probably off attending his father, even though his father already has everything anyone could ever want and Leo’s got _nothing_ , not even good health. He hopes his cold’s contagious and Markus somehow catches it. 

He calls, hoarse and painfully raw, “Markus!”

“Leo,” Markus’ smooth voice calmly answers from the kitchen. It’s beautifully melodic: such a stark contrast to Leos’ damaged vocal chords. He doesn’t say anything else. 

Leo doesn’t have anything else to say either. He wants to. He’s sick enough to let down his guard, at least to himself, and he shamefully admits that he wants Markus to _take care of him._ He wants Markus all over him. He growls, “The hell’re you doing? You better not be just dicking around while I’m—” Another coughing fit forces a pause, but he eventually finishes, “Fucking dying!”

Markus doesn’t answer, but a few seconds later, Leo hears his footsteps approaching. Markus comes around the couch and takes a seat next to Leo, heedless of Leo’s germs. There’s a silver tray in his lap, loaded with fresh waffles and a plethora of half-melted fruit: a gorgeous, delicious-smelling smorgasbord of high-end cuisine. It looks as perfect as everything Markus does. Markus plucks a pitted, stem-less cherry off the very top and reaches over, holding it just in front of Leo’s mouth. Leo can feel his cheeks staining pink, or pinker than they already were. 

He dazedly parts his lips, and Markus deftly pops the cherry between them, fingers brushing over his bottom lip when they withdraw. Leo’s temperature is spiking even higher. He chews the cherry and gives Markus a _look_ , because what the hell was _that_.

Markus leans close to him, close enough that Leo can see exactly how mesmerizing his eyes are, and Markus all but purrs, “Do you want to be handfed the rest, or should I rub your feet? Or perhaps I should just drape myself across your lap to keep you warm...”

Leo swallows. He’s blushing right to his ears. He squeaks, “Uhh...” It’s not exactly what he was thinking.

Then Markus abruptly straightens out and chuckles. Leo doesn’t get the joke. Markus climbs off the couch but leaves the tray behind, sitting next to Leo. Looking leisurely down at him, Markus drawls, “I’m not yours, Leo. I’ll take care of you while you’re here, but my primary duty is to your father. Call me if you actually _need_ me.” Then he just up and leaves. Just like that. He strolls out of the living room through the self-opening doors, and he probably goes upstairs to dote on Leo’s father’s every whim.

Leo stays behind and grumbles, “Fucking android!”


End file.
